


Breaking Bonds

by amandastories



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bad Puns, Car Sex, Character Death, Dancing, Dancing in the Rain, Depression, F/F, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Not What It Looks Like, Red String of Fate, Sexual Tension, Winter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-03-19 04:11:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3595863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amandastories/pseuds/amandastories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean Kirschtein and Ymir are college students at Stohess University in Berlin, Germany.  Marco Bodt and Historia Reiss are college students at Trost University in Łódź, Poland.  They live in a world where everyone is connected to their soulmate through a red string.  Everyone will meet their soulmate, no matter what.  The red string can only be broken by the sharing of a true, passionate kiss. However, each soulmate will eventually die, and when one of the pairing does, the remaining mate receives the other person's string tied to their right pinky, as if imprisoned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Never Have Doubt

Ugh, class _again_ this morning? Shit.

My red string tugs on my pinky finger. I guess they're waking up too.

I'll explain the "red strings". The red string apparently ties you and your soulmate together. When you're born, you have a string that laces around your finger that connects you to them. The string is broken when you and your soulmate kiss. Everyone is tagged to their soulmate, no screw ups. When your soulmate dies, the string that the soulmate once had is tied to your other pinky, as if a prisoner, until your end. I'm 19, and I'm having huge doubts about this "red strings" thing. The string is so long, I never even bothered to try to find them. Is my soulmate a girl, or a boy? How old are they? What do they look like? Are they thinking the same about me?

Wait, why am I worrying so much about it? Tch, whatever.

I groan as I sit up from my bed, stretching my arms up, yawning.

"What time is it?" I moan, glancing at the clock. The clock reads "6:13 a.m" First class starts in two hours. English first. Then calculus, biology, criminology, lunch, astronomy and then my elective - Art. Sounds cliché, but I love drawing. My mom always told me I was "the best around", but that was when I was little. I don't want to sound cocky, but I'm actually decent.

Eh, whatever. Class today.

I whip the blankets off my legs, the cold air biting my skin. I crack my fingers, swinging my legs over the bed, standing up. I make my bed quickly, stumbling to the bathroom. I put on a simple black hoodie and grey jeans with my sneakers. I brush my hair with my fingers, grabbing my bag. I put my earbuds in, playing "Paint it, Black" by The Rolling Stones. I open the door, walking out into the hallway. A familiar freckled girl paces next to me, as she is leaving her dorm as well, locking the door behind her.

"Good morning, Kirschtein!" She chirps, clicking her heels.

"Mornin', Ymir." She fixes her grey shirt and pulls up her skinny jeans up.

"How's your girlfriend?" I ask. She groans, throwing her head back.

"Hitch?" Ymir sneers. "She's cheating on me, like the rest of them. I can't find my damn soul mate. I wonder if they're looking for me..."

"It's been on your mind, too?"

"Hell yeah. Hitch actually isn't lesbian, she was dating me as a dare. Tch, that bitch," Ymir whines.

"You'll find your soulmate," I say, trying to encourage her.

"Anyway, what class do you have first? And what're you listening to?" Ymir asks, trying to change the subject.

"The Rolling Stones, and I have English first," I reply.

"The Rolling Stones," Ymir repeats, sighing.

We eventually make it to English class, taught by Mr. Pixis. He was usually drunk half of the time, so we all use our phones in class. Pretty simple. He's 'teaching' us. It's a little scary, because I'm surprisingly failing his class.. And he falls asleep standing up. So you don't know if he's got a heart attack or is asleep. He's a bald, old man with soft caramel eyes and his cheeks are always red. I sit down, hauling my black backpack over my shoulder onto the floor. Ymir sits down next to me. Mr. Pixis is asleep, I think.

My string tugs. Oh? What're they up to? I pull twice as a "hel-lo." The person does the same, I smile. Did they know why I tugged?

"So, I think I got an idea where my soulmate lives," Ymir says, nudging my arm. "And I feel like she knows your soulmate."

My eyes widen. "Wh.... What? How?!" I ask, gasping.

Ymir smirks, twirling her green pen in between her index and middle finger. "Well... A way, way, way long time ago, when I was a dorky fourteen-year-old, I knew a short girl named Historia Reiss. She had her red string visible. And you know, you can't see anyone else's string, except yours and your soulmate's. So, when I found this out, two years later, I figured she was my soulmate. She had moved to Poland, I had kept her phone number and ever since then, I've seen her red string. So, since we are 'meant to be' best friends, you're coming with me over break. Who knows, you might find yours," she explains. "Oh yeah, break starts tomorrow."

My eyes widen huge. "How many hours will it take to get from Germany to Poland?!"

"About four hours. I already paid for your ticket. Plane leaves at 7," Ymir says. I blink. Poland?!

"O... Okay, Ymir.. Thank you," I answer. The bell rings, indicating the first period ending. Did the period really pass that quick? I groan, standing up, picking up my light backpack. I unzip the pack, stuffing my books and pens into it. My heels click against the tiled floor. I walk to the doorway, but before I leave, Ymir places a strong grip on my shoulder.

"Kirschtein, I have a good feeling about this," she sneers, smirking before letting go and pushing me into the hall.


	2. That's What Friends Are For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just call on me brother,  
> If you need a hand,  
> We all need somebody to lean on
> 
> ~Lean on Me

I stumble on my way out of the hallway, bumping into Mikasa, my "I-sort-of-like-you-but-you-aren't-my-soulmate" crush. Her body slams into the row of greenish lockers, her head rocking back. Gee, thanks Ymir. Eren gives me a death glare. Eren is Mikasa's "brother", although she is deeply in love with him, even though "no one is supposed to know" and "she has not told anyone." I pace up to Mikasa, who groans in pain.

"Oh my God, I'm so, so sorry! Are you-" I get interrupted by Ymir. She walks up next to me, slapping an arm around my neck. This isn't going to end well... Why? Mikasa hates Ymir.

"Ey, Kirschtein. I tell ye to hit on the girl you like, but I hope that you know I didn't mean physically. What a bad way to approach a beautiful lass like Mikasa Ackerman!" Ymir says, sarcasm hinting in her voice, she speaks as if she is shocked. My face burns red. "Now, I hope you can apologize to her, because it wouldn't be a good way to _flirt_ with her, now would it?" She smirks deviously.

I **really** , **_really_** hate her sometimes...

Ymir chuckles, messing up Mikasa's hair. She rolls her eyes, muttering almost every curse word I know under her breath, before kicking _me_ in the shin, before swinging her bag over her shoulder and walking away. Eren follows her, crinkling his nose in disgust.

Well.

I hop, muttering an occasional "ow" as we walk down the hallway.

"What was that for, Ymir? She almost saw me as considerate!" I sneer, kicking the back of her leg. She starts to laugh loudly, her deep feminine laugh.

"You? Considerate? Hah, don't make me laugh, Jean-ny (oh, how I hate that nickname). I'm not sticking up for that twat, but you're too good for her. You deserve better," she says, sticking her hands in her pockets.

"Wow, Ymir. Didn't expect that to come out of your mouth," I reply, running a hand through my hair.

"I'm serious. She only cares about Eren and maybe Armin, maybe you and her parents, well..." She rambles on and on. I push a glass door open with my shoulder, holding it open for Ymir. She nods as a "thank you" and walks ahead. I push myself off the door, starting to pace up the three flights of stairs. I cringe, moaning.

"What the fuck was that, Kirschtein? Are you having an aneurysm?" She asks, scoffing.

"We have calculus," I cringe, my body stiffening.

"Ew, this class is as ugly as Hitch Dreyse," she whines. True.

"We can bail..." I suggest, "But I'm failing in calculus and I don't feel like having detention tomorrow..."

"Fine."

* * *

 

 

It's 1:30am and I'm wide awake, packing.

**> Ymir **

_It'll be for the whole break, two months. Pack good. :)_

Well... Thanks for reminding me hmm.. Let's see.. I don't know... One hour ago?! Luckily, I'm almost done. I've packed my shirts, pants, hoodies, socks, underwear, books, some homework (which I was forced to bring by Mr. Zacharias, our calculus teacher), toiletries, and my phone charger.

I'm wearing an "American Idiot: Green Day" hoodie and grey sweatpants with my sneakers, of course. It's the closest thing to a blanket I can get, okay?! Oh, right.. I almost forgot. Axe. The "if-Ymir-is-being-a-chatterbox-use-this-and-she-will-go-away" spray. I jam my phone into my pocket, pushing my earbuds in my ears. I play "How to be a Heartbreaker" by Marina and the Diamonds, ~~don't judge me its my favorite song okay.~~

I whip my bag over my shoulder, puffing out. Oh right, glasses and contacts. I quickly drop my bag, scrummaging through my accessories in the bathroom before finding my contact lenses and glasses. Glasses today, too lazy. I push them up on my face, sighing. Off to Poland... I meet Ymir in the lobby. She's wearing a pair of black leggings and a "Fall Out Boy" hoodie. Her hair is brushed and down, moccasins on her feet.

"Ready, Jean?" She asks. It feels strange when she calls me Jean, she usually calls me Jeanny or Kirschtein. I smile tiredly as a reply, before walking up beside her.

"Auf dem Weg nach Polen!" She cheers. On our way to Poland.

  * The next three hours consist of: Ymir blasting German rap songs (which I found hilarious when she sang along)
  * Me fighting over at Ymir trying to blast Marina and the Diamonds
  * Ymir cursing in German to other cars around us
  * Arriving at the airport
  * Going through security about five times



"Oi!" Ymir moans, gasping. She steps up the stairs into the plane. I follow behind her, stepping onto the airplane. Ymir runs to a spot in the airplane, placing her bags in the shelving above them. She whips my bag off my shoulder, placing it beside hers.

"I get the window seat!" She giggles, sliding in. I sit down next to her, smiling uncontrollably. Ymir, 19 and 3/4, still a child.

"Off to find our soulmates," I declare. Ymir hoots a "hell yeah!" After about ten minutes of loading everyone, an announcement comes on the speaker, just going over some basic rules, then the plane lifts into the air. I close my eyelids, slowly falling asleep to Marina and the Diamonds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used google translate.. Sorry if that's wrong... 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this!
> 
> I'm going to make the chapters longer in the future when they meet Historia and Marco.


	3. Journey to Poland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awkward Marco is awkward.

Marco's Point of View

No classes today. Break starts today. Hopefully, I can meet up with Historia and Sasha and Connie today, maybe we can play some video games or something. Historia said to me yesterday that her soulmate, Ymir was coming over break... I have absolutely no idea how to say her name. I thought it was said "yee-mir", but Historia laughed at me for that. She says it's said "Yih-mër", which - now that I think about it - sounds correct.

**> Marco **

_Hey! c: do you want to hang out today?_

I text Historia. She replies instantly.

** >Historia **

_Ymir and Jean are coming, tho! :o_

Jean? Who's Jean? It can't be Ymir's boyfriend, it can't be Historia's... I gasp aloud, covering my mouth. My face gets hot.

"What if... Jean's my soulmate?"

I remember my mom said, " _The string - if you're in front of them - doesn't show, unless you confess your love to them. It's a way to surprise the two of you_." Historia texts me again.

**> Historia **

_Jean's a good friend of Ymir's. Who knows, u 2 mite b a pair!! We r picking Jean & Ymir up @ the airport in an hour. We leave in 20 mins, look presentable! :D_

oH

My eyes widen, digging through my drawers. I find a pair of black skinny jeans at the bottom of my bottom drawer. I hook my hoodie off of the back of my door and slip it over my head. It works. I shake my hands through my hair, attempting some sort of hairstyle. I walk up to my mirror, clearing my throat.

"Hello, my name is Marco Bodt. Nice to-- no, too formal... Hi! I'm Marco Bodt! Pleased to meet you! Wait, what if they don't speak English?! I don't speak German! I shake my hands anxiously at my side. They probably speak English." Maybe they can teach me some German... I yell in frustration.

"Goddamnit, Marco. You're over thinking again! And besides, this guy might not even be your soulmate..." I push my glasses up on my face, giving myself a cheesy grin in the mirror, pointing to myself.

"Kill em, Marco," I say, nodding my head awkwardly. I laugh at myself, shoving my phone in my pocket, opening the door to out of my dorm, making sure I have my keys. I pace down the stairs into the lobby, seeing Historia. She's wearing black leggings, tall white boots and a red-button-down jacket. She adjusts her black earmuffs.

"Ready? It's snowing. Are you sure you'll be okay with just that?" Historia asks, shutting her phone off and sticking it in her pocket.

"Tch, it's not snowing."

"Okay, you owe me twenty bucks if it is," Historia says bluntly, turning around.

I roll my eyes, "Whatever." Historia shrugs, opening the door. "Say, have you grown? You used to be up to here, now you're here." I place a hand under my pec, then a little lower than my shoulder. She ignores me.

"Told you so, hand it over, Freckles," Historia says, pointing to the snow. She giggles, stepping into the snow. I groan, stepping outside, closing the door behind me. We both stomp out of the snow into her small, black car. She slams the door closed, starting the car, the engine rumbling, then turning on. I buckle in, jabbing the button to turn the radio on. I skip past a few stations, then stay on one of the channels, a polka song comes on. Historia and I glance at each other smirking.

"Apples, peaches, pumpkin pie, who's not ready, alabi, let's all go.... play hide and seek!" We sing in unison. The accordion plays in the background, as we cry of laughter.

"What the hell's the point of this song?!" Historia laughs, banging her hand on the wheel, accidently hitting the horn. The person in front of her car jumps up, falling down. I bite my lip, holding in laughter. The person scrambles off, Historia pulls out of the parking lot.

"Perks of being a Polock," Historia giggles. "Even though I'm part Irish. But like... One fourth Irish."

I bang a fist on my chest. "100% Polish! Represent!!"

Historia laughs. "You're awesome, Marco." I pretend to flip my hair, even though there is no hair to flip.

Historia starts driving on the highway. I hum the polka song to myself, thinking of this "Jean" fella. What does he look like? Is he taller, or shorter than me?

"H-Hey Historia?" I ask nervously. She looks at me quickly.

"What's up?"

"Wh... What... Does Jean look- what is Jean like?" Her gaze is focused on the road.

"He's a little shorter than you. He has a dirty blonde and dark brown undercut. He has hazel eyes, I've never met him before, but Ymir says he's pretty chill, I guess. He's temperous, but overall, he's a pretty cool guy," Historia explains. I try to image Jean in my head. We have similar eye color.

"What's his full name?"

"Jean Kirschtein." Ooh. Kirschtein. Why am I getting so admirous of Jean? I don't even know him. I am a hopeless romantic, after all... But I didn't think I would go this far. My mouth twitches, forming a smile.

 _Jean. Jean Kirschtein_.

With all of my daydreaming, we have finally reached the airport. I step out of her car. Historia walks up to me, putting her hands in her pockets. She blows a bubble with her gum.

"Apparently, the airplane has arrived already, they should be here. Ymir said they are at the small cafe," Historia explains. My heart starts pounding. Oh God. Why am I so nervous? First impressions have never went well for me... I hold the door open for Historia. She nods her head lightly as a "thank you" and I walk in after her. Historia spots Ymir, she squeals, starting to run to her.

"H-Hey! Wait up!" I groan, starting to pace after her. The blonde hugs the freckled girl - which I'm guessing is Ymir - and a boy stands next to them, laughing. Is that Jean? Ohhhh, shit.

"Historia... You could've waited for me..." I pant, glancing at Historia, then Ymir. Ymir smiles at me, and so does Jean.

"Marco, this is Jean. Jean, this is Marco," Ymir says, pulling my sleeve, so I stumble closer. I smile at Jean awkwardly. Jean chuckles as a response.

"Hey, Marco. I'm Jean, pleasure to meet you." Oh, for fucks sake. His voice sounds like sweet love.

"H-Hi, I'm Marco," I stutter. Great, fucking great. Jean smiles wide, putting his hands in his pockets. He averts his gaze to Ymir and Historia. "Cmon," I say. "Let's get out of here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song I put in the story is an actual song, by the way... It's a polka wedding song... disclaimer. I'm not sure about doing Marco's point of view. The story will mainly be Jean's point of view, but I might add in an occasional Marco chapter c;


	4. The Sweet Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean, I hate to break it to you but you might not be straight.

Jean's Point of View

This guy is a dork. A big dork. Wow, I pictured some Mexican jock. Oops...

We are currently in Historia's black car. I'm just thinking to myself, while the others socialize. They don't seem to notice me, which is okay.

"Hey, my backyard's pretty big, should we have a campfire tonight?" Historia asks, adjusting her mirror.

"Sure, why not?" Marco chirps. He fucking chirps. I roll my eyes.

"Fine."

"Don't get your panties in a wad, Kirschtein," Ymir snickers. "We all know you wear them." My face flushes dark red. "I do not!" I retort. ~~I do, shut up~~. Marco laughs along with them. I give Ymir the death glare, she immediately freezes.

"No, Jean. No, don't-!"

"Ymir and I made an agreement that if she spills a secret of mine, I get to tickle her until she pisses herself," I explain. Ymir's eyes widen.

"No, Jean.. I'm sorry! Don't-!"

"No," I scoot closer to her.

"Now!" I jab my fingers into her stomach, tickling her. She starts to squeal, laughing.

"J-J-Jean! S-Stop!" She exclaims, laughing again. Ymir squirms out of my grip, running into the middle row of seats.

"I hate you!"

* * *

 

 

 Ymir had to change when we got to Historia's house. She knows every time to bring a spare pair of pants, because I always succeed. Historia's house is small. It's cute. It's a dark red house with beige shudders around the windows, and a black, glass door.

"It's bigger inside," Historia says softly, before parking the car. "There's a big basement, a big backyard and a campsite."

Historia hops up the tall stairs to the door, digging in her pocket and searching through her keys to grab her house keys. I glance over at Marco. His glasses are dark, due to transitions, his hair is glistening from the sun. Marco has freckles, which I hadn't noticed before. He's taller than me. His cheeks turn light pink as if he sees me staring at him. My eyes widen, looking away. I'm sort of regretting dressing like a human blanket, because everyone else is dressed... Nicer.

Oh well...

I can change when we get in her house. Historia opens the door to her house. My mouth drops. It's beautiful. Are her parents gods or something?! A beautiful, crystal chandelier hangs down in the center hallway. The sun beams sunlight into the chandelier, making it glimmer rainbow flashes onto the walls and onto the dark, wooden floor. There are two hallways, one to the right, and one to the left. Past the chandelier, is a huge kitchen and living room. After the counter in the kitchen, there is a hallway to the right of that, leading to a possible bedroom.

"Come in," Historia says, holding the door open for us. We all walk in. Historia and Marco sit down in the kitchen, chattering to each other while Ymir and I unpack. I change into my newest Marina and the Diamonds t-shirt. ~~I have zero shame wearing it~~. I also put on a pair of skinny jeans. Ymir changes into a pair of white skinny jeans and a shirt that says "ich mag Männer und Kaffee die gleiche Weise" which translates to "I like men and coffee the same way" and on the back is says "ich mag nicht entweder" which translates to "I don't like either." Sort of genius.

I pace down the hall, entering the living room. Historia's living room has a big, red, circle carpet on the floor, which is super-duper fuzzy. ~~I cannot stop walking over it, it's so fluffy and cozy.~~ Historia glances over at me, staring at me. I don't notice until about a minute later... Marco, Ymir and Historia are currently laughing at me.

"What?!" I sneer, freezing in my spot.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Ymir snickers.

"I'm... _Dancing_..." I fib, standing up straight. Ymir slaps her thigh, using the table as support to hold herself up. Ymir waves her hand as a "whatever", sitting down in one of the sturdy, wooden chairs in Historia's kitchen. I decide to sit down in one of the chairs, as well. I slide my hand into the back pocket of my jeans, wrapping my fingers around my phone, pulling it out. I turn it on. I look up. Everyone's staring at me. I crinkle my nose, slowly putting it back in my pocket.

"What should we do?" Marco asks, sighing. The sun glints on his glasses through the glass door, leading out to a huge, wooden patio.

"We can go to Dekandencja.." Historia suggests quietly.

"Dekan- what?" I repeat, scowling.

"Its a popular restaurant in Łódź-"

"Oh, no. Historia, no. We are not going there again this week!" Marco says, sneering. He wrinkles his nose, pushing his glasses up.

"Why not!? Ymir and _Jean_ have not ever been there!" Historia protests. Marco starts yelling -which actually scares me a little- at Historia in Polish. Ymir bites her lip, holding back a grin or an obnoxious laugh. How the hell does Polish work?

"H-Hey, it isn't _Jean_ , it's Jsh-ean! It's French!" I yell. Ymir starts cracking up in laughter, slapping the table, which shakes my bottle of water. I rub my temples, trying to soothe myself down, closing my eyes. I see stars.

"Everyone, hush up!" I sneer, standing up. Marco lets out a little yelp, jumping back. Historia's eyes widen, Ymir stops laughing like a hyena. I then notice that my hand is formed into a fist in the air. _That's why they're scared._ I hesitantly make my arm drop to my side. I place my hand on Historia's shoulder. Her body tenses up.

"Historia, Marco. Why don't we go somewhere we all agree on?" I say as softly as I can, without sneering. Historia glances at Marco.

"O... Okay... I'm sorry.." Marco says, his voice shaky. Well.. You just screwed up, Kirschtein.

"No.. I'm sorry.. I shouldn't have raised my voice at you.." I keep my gaze on the light blue paint on the pillar that divides the kitchen from the stairs that leads to the upstairs floor. Marco's face softens. "You shouldn't apologize."

Marco pushes his glasses up with his middle finger, pushing them into the crevasse of his nose. "I forgive you..." Marco says softly, his voice still shaken from my outburst. I slowly let go of Historia's shoulder.

"I'll cook tonight... It's my treat," Historia suggests, slowly loosening up. This girl is someone I need to make sure I don't hurt, even if my temper gets out of hand. Historia dances - almost goddess-like - to the countertop across the kitchen, spinning gracefully as she snatches her apron, hooking it over her head and tying the string into a big, fat bow in the back on her waist.

Marco pulls out the chair, sitting down as he scoots in. I sit down next to Ymir and Marco, tapping my fingers on the table.

"Historia, what's on the menu?" Ymir asks, crossing her arms, leaning back in the chair and giving a sly smirk.

"Rosół, it's a simple noodle soup with vegetables. My babcia (pronounced: bop chee, means "grandmother") and dziadek (pronounced: ja gee, means "grandfather")'s famous recipe," Historia says, crouching down to grab a small box that has "sól" written across the black box in bold, red letters. Ymir bites her lip, smiling.

_We better give them a room alone._

Historia hums to herself as she cooks, I stare at the wall. I can feel Marco's glance on me, but I try to ignore him. Why is he looking at me? Wait... No... He's **staring** at me. Why is he staring at me? I'm not fascinating in any way. My eyes quickly spot Ymir, who is currently - most likely - looking at Historia's ass. I decide to look back at him. Look, not stare. I turn my head slightly, our gazes meeting, which made my stomach feel tingly and made my heart pound. What is this feeling? Jesus Christ, his eyes are gorgeous. His freckles are so cutely scattered across- wait... What? I'm _not_ gay! Why is he so... So... Adorable? Oh my Lord... I'm not... No... It can't be! I'm _not_ gay, I'm not into men. But, why is he so cute? Marco's cheeks redden, averting his gaze down at the table.

Never again am I going to think that I'm into men.

 _Never_.

I avert my gaze to the sun shining onto the glass door. White, lace curtains hang from the ceiling over the door, hanging down about two feet from the ceiling. Clanking comes from Historia, reaching up on her tippy toes to reach some orange soup bowls. Her fingers rippling, her fingers wrapping around the bowls, pulling them down as she lowers herself. She takes the ladle and scoops a bowl of hot rosół in each bowl. She grabs one bowl at a time, placing them down for us.

" _Bon Appetit_!" Historia beams, untying her apron. I pick up the fork, twirling it in the soup, taking a bite.

"This is amazing, Historia!" I reply. And it is. The noodles melted in my mouth, the broth goes perfectly with the combination of food and the vegetables are cooked to perfection. She blushes lightly.

"Thank you, _Jean_ ," she says, finally saying the correct way. She sits down, leaning her elbows on the table.

* * *

 

Did I mention Poland has beautiful sunsets? Well, they do. I slide the glass door open, onto the patio. Marco is walking in front of me, I decide to walk beside him. Wow, he has at least 3 inches on me.

"Hey, Jean," Marco says, his voice raspy. He smiles at me.

"Yeah- hey," I reply. Wow, I'm an asshole. "Where is the campfire-area-thingy?" Marco giggles at my foolishness.

"Down here," he informs, starting to pace down the patio stairs, opening a metal fence door that opens up to a concrete walkway, then has a grassy backyard with a medium-sized campfire site. There is one log of wood on each side of the campfire pit, making four seats. The sun has just set, the sky sprayed with twinkling stars, dark blue cumulus clouds assorted in the sky, the lighter color peeking through the cracks of the clouds, making it as if the sky is cracked.

Historia grabs the matches off the ground, then grabs a match, swiping it against the box, forming a flame. She throws it into the pit, the pit flaring a huge spark, then blue and white flames form beneath the wood. I grab one of the sticks and squish a marshmallow on the top of the stick, nearing it towards the flame. Marco, Historia and Ymir do the same. Historia and Ymir are across from Marco and I. When the marshmallow has a golden rim and tanned sides, I take it out of the fire.

"Ah, shit!" Marco screams, dropping the stick and jumping back. My head snaps to look at him.

"What the hell was that for?" I scowl, popping the marshmallow into my mouth. Mmm.. Creamy. Oh, shit. That came out wro- ShiT.

"I burned it!" Marco whimpers, scraping the burnt marshmallow into the fire. Marco picks the part of the stick -where he scraped the marshmallow off- up to his mouth, sticking his tongue out, licking the stick.

 _ **Oh**_.

No.

No.

No.

Don't think sexually, Jean. No, he isn't licking your- Fuck. The crotch of my jeans starts to tighten. Shit. I sit down, leaning my arms down in my lap.

Why, now?!

I become lightheaded, well all of my blood is flowing downwards. Shit, no. Fuck everything. I start to unintentionally mutter curses under my breath.

"I.. I gotta use the bathroom, I'll be right back," I say, my voice shaking lightly, before I place my stick down and start walking as normally as I can away from them. Shit.

I'm not gay. Okay... Maybe a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for not posting! This chapter took forever and I had gotten sick. This chapter is dedicated to my awesome friends who helped me come up with the idea for the ending, Alex, Kuma, Sara, Iines, Ana and whoever else helped me ^~^ 
> 
> This chapter is 3k+ words, damn! Hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Oh yeah, I used google translate again for the German and Polish dialect, sorry if any is incorrect!


	5. Sticky Situations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just close your eyes,  
> The sun is going down.  
> You'll be alright,  
> No one can hurt you now.  
> Come morning light,  
> You and I will be,  
> Safe and Sound  
> ~Safe and Sound, Taylor Swift

Jean's Point of View

Goddamnit. Fuck it all.  How the hell did I get a boner over Marco!? Gah, I can't focus on why I got it, I need to focus on how I'm going to get rid of it.  I finally get out of their sight, going inside of Historia's house.  I hope no one noticed... I think I got away quick enough.  The image of Marco licking the stick turns into Marco licking the hot cum off of my—

Oh, goddamnit. This isn't helping.

I run into the bathroom up the rickety stairs, slamming the door behind me.  This is the worse one yet.  My pants are horribly tight, my body pulsing.   Why the fuck did I think of that?  I'm not...

_Gay_

Am I?  The pulsing copies my heartbeat, making myself twitch.  I palm myself down, accidentally slipping soft whines from myself.  This is not going to help.  I cringe, squeezing my eyes shut.  I grip my hands on the granite countertop, glaring up at myself in the mirror.  My face is flushed of color, yeah, because it's all rushing downwards.  I look... Tired.  The fly on my jeans is slowly coming undone.  I can't look at myself while I'm suffering.  I lock the door, sitting down on the cold, tile floor.

My phone buzzes in the back pocket of my jeans.  I groan, my hands shaking as I grab my phone out of my pocket.  My pants start to loosen.  

_It's mom.  Thank the fucking Lord, you just saved my life._

I click the green phone button, moving my phone up to my ear.

"Hello?" My mom asks through the phone.  Her voice is soft, even tired.  Her voice had become the music to my ears.  

"Hey, it's Jean.." I mumble, running a hand through my hair.  

"How... How's Poland? What's it like?" She starts out.  I hear some clanking in the background, probably finishing up washing the dishes from supper.

"Its uh— good. Great, awesome," I stutter, standing up, my toes curling in my shoes.  I can picture her smiling on the other end.  She chuckles lightly at my response.

"Ah, Good, good.  Ben's turning seven on Thursday," she states.  Ben is my younger brother, although he looks nothing like me.  He has dark — almost black — brown hair, piercing hazel eyes, that glisten in the sunlight and a huge smile, that can put a smile on anyone's face.  

"Oh, I almost forgot!" I say, smiling wide.  "I'll get him a new action figure or t-shirt here in Lodz, or somethin'." She laughs softly, her voice ringing in my ears.

"He'd love that!" She cheers. She moves the phone away from her ear, calling out to Ben.

"Benji!" She calls out, her voice gentle.

"Yeah?" He muffles, hinting he was eating dinner, despite it was horribly difficult to understand what he said.

"Jean's going to get you a gift when he gets back from his trip!"

Ben giggles foolishly in the background; she places the phone back to her ear.

"I'm glad you're having fun, Jean," she says.  I can picture her smiling, teasingly sticking her tongue out in her smile, due to habit.  

"Well baby, I need to go get Ben to his friend's house. Call me tomorrow, yeah?"

"Of course, you're the best.  Goodbye."

"Goodbye, I love you."

"I... I love you too," I murmur, before ending the call. 

 

* * *

 

What happens?  What happens when you lose someone dear to you?  Especially when it's someone close to you?  How are you supposed to coop?  Do you forget about their passing?  Do you mourn on it? **Do you join them?**  I've lost too many people dear to me.  

 

I feel horrible for my mother.  She needs to take of Benji at home and me at college.  She needs to clean the house, she needs to do the laundry, she needs to cook breakfast, lunch and dinner, she needs to **protect us.**  Your whole life you think "I can do better" or "I can live on my own" or "I can live without my parents."  Can you really?  Can you live without the people who grew you up? The people who brought you into this cruel, beautiful world?  I used to be like that.  I used to think that I can do better than my mother.  I used to think that I can live independently.  I used to think that I can live without my parents.  

 

" _Honey?" My mother winced, slowly walking over to me._  

I was thirteen at the time.   **Six years ago**.  

_I looked at my mother, her stomach bulging lightly, resembling she was pregnant.  I'm very well aware she was pregnant.  Her eyes were heavy, bags underneath them.  She looked heavier.  She looked weighed down.  Was there something wrong?  She motioned me to sit down.  She sat down, crossing her ankles.  I hesitantly walked over to her, sitting down.  She formed fists in her hands, pressing the palms of her hands down on her lower thigh._

_"Honey.  Jean," she mumbled, gripping my hand between her two cold, pale ones.  She looks up at me, her hazel eyes glassy, dry tears on her cheeks.  She looked older._

_"What is it, mom?" I asked, biting my lip.  "What's wrong?"_

_"Honey... Mathias is... Your father... He **died** this morning," she winced, breaking out into an unattractive wince, biting her lip hard.  My eyes almost bulged out of my head.  My heart — I swear to God — must have stopped.  My eyes watered immediately, making my vision glassy._

_"I'm so sorry, Jeanbo.  He w-was out to work a-and the r-road was slippery and... He hit another car a-and... He hit his head on the g-glass and..." She stopped talking after that.  He's dead.  My father is dead.  It took about a minute to sink in.  The sounds of ambulances screamed on the streets outside of our house.  My mouth unintentionally hung open, slightly parted.  My mother embraces me tight, wrapping her arms around my torso._

_No more.  No more saying hello after work.  No more kisses from him.  No more hugs from him.  No more of his voice.  No more of his scent; which smelted of fresh, hot Berlin rye bread, fresh out of the oven in which he picked up for us everyday after he come home from work, no more times in which I would go into his bed when I couldn't sleep.  No more sailing together.  No more fishing together._

_**No more.** _

 

* * *

 

 

I find myself crying.  Hot tears streaming down my face.  Why am I thinking of this now?  I stand up, grabbing a tissue from the tissue box on the bathroom counter, blowing my nose and wiping my eyes.  I haven't cried in months, why did I need to think of that now?  I wipe my eyes with my sleeve, opening the door and shutting it behind me.  I pace down the stairs, heading outside.  

"Oh, Jean's back.  I thought I might've needed to get the fishing pole!" Ymir snickers, chomping down on a marshmallow.  

"Quit it, skank," I sneer, sitting down.  "I needed a breather." She frowns lightly, reaching over to grab another marshmallow, gripping the bag.

"Historia!" Ymir whines, looking at her.  "How many did you eat?!" Historia cowers lightly.

"...Hm... Maybe.... Chhhh... Twenty-seven....?" She grits her teeth, nervous as if Ymir was going to murder her.  Ymir slaps her thighs, standing up.  

"Looks like the campfire is over!" She scowls, rolling her eyes.  I stand up, brushing my ass off.  I hear Marco giggling quietly, before standing closed beside me, hooking his thumbs in his pockets.  

"Ready to go..?" He asks, almost nervously as he looks to the side.  I nod, biting the inside of my lip, blood secreting from inside my mouth.  I turn around, starting to walk through the grass.  

"You were gone for about ten minutes... Is everything okay?" Marco asks, looking up at the night sky.  

"The uh, smoke was making it difficult for me to breathe..." I say,  looking in front of me.  Lie.  My heart aches.  Literally... Aches.  Forcing happiness, forcing a smile.  You'll know what I mean.  I force a smile, which makes my chest ache.  He doesn't reply, but then nods.  

"Right..." He mutters, unlocking the gate and opening it for me, giving a cheesy grin.  I chuckle lightly, nodding as a 'thank you', and walk through.  He walks behind me, fumbling with the lock.  Historia and Ymir had already headed in way before us.  The door is wide open, so we walk in, I close it behind me.  

"Okay, sleeping arrangements, Ymir and I and then Marco and _jego chłopak_ ," Historia says, giggling.  Marco's ears turn red, followed by his cheeks burning red.

"Historia!" He gasps, biting the inside of his cheek.  "He is not!"  Historia replies something in Polish, before scissoring her fingers and giggles a "taa taa" before walking upstairs.  I narrow my eyebrows before looking over at Marco.

"What'd she say?" I frown, starting to head down the hallway, into our bedroom.  

"Nothing!" He replies quickly, flicking the light on.  I freeze.  One bed.  Come on Historia, you're a damn goddess, you couldn't buy to beds?  Marco chuckles nervously, scratching the back of his neck, then swiping his hands in front of him, shaking them vigorously.

"It wasn't my idea!" He defends, sitting down on the bed.  

 

"I's fine," I murmur, grabbing my phone.  I turn it on.  Four Unread Conversations.

 

**> Ymir**

 

_Don't get too loud down there! c;_

 

**> Connie!**

 

_Hey man, how's Poland??????????? :))))))_

 

**> Adventures! :D**

 

_You have been added to the conversation, invited by "Ymir is Awesomer than Jean"_

 

Jesus Christ, Ymir, learn your grammar.

 

**> Historia**

_Hey every1! I made a group cht 4 all of us!!!!!! :)_

 

**> Ymir**

_K_

 

Ymir's famous line. 'K'

 

"K" - Ymir 2015

 

Damn, if I had fifty bucks for every time she texted me 'k', damn, I think I'd be richer than Bill Gates.

 

**> Marco**

_Hey guys!! c:_

 

I decide to not reply, and read the last chat, which is "Cool Swag Money."  I think — before Connie probably changed it — was our group of friends' chat, which consisted of: Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Me, Annie, Reiner, Bertholdt, Connie, Sasha, Hanji and Levi.  

 

' _Connie Springing on Sasha' has changed the group name to "Cool Swag Money."_

 

**> Levi**

_Shut up, you guys r spamming my fucking phone. I s2g Connie wtf is up w/ the group name.  It is the most retarded group name in the world.  -__-_

 

**> Hanji!!!!!!!!!!!!!(:**

_Oh shush, shortie ;)_

 

**> Levi**

_Shut up Hanji no one cares_

 

**> Hanji!!!!!!!!!!!!!(:**

_:(_

 

**> Connie**

_Levi dun du dis ;-;_

 

**> Levi**

_Shut up you bald twig ur fucking stupid_

  


Levi stop you're killing me.  I love Levi for his nasty and sarcastic remarks, they're classics.  Hanji is his best friend since grade school, she's a riot.  I swear she's probably the most happiest, cheerful girl I've met in my life.  He acts like he hates her, but he really cares for her.  

"What're you laughing at?" Marco asks, smiling as he lies down.  

"Just something my friends are talking about.." I murmur, crawling up on the bed.  I place my phone down on the side table.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom to change, I'll be back," I say, sitting up.

"Okay," Marco squeaks, yawning.  I grab a pair of black and grey boxers and my Marina pink t-shirt before leaving the room, closing it behind me.  My bare feet pad against the wooden floor as I walk down the hallway into the bathroom, locking it behind me.  The bathroom has a cute oval mirror in front of the countertop, floral shower curtains and a simple toilet.  I change out of my sweaty jeans and change into my fresh pair of boxers and slip my hoodie off of my head, sliding my pink t-shirt over my head.  I splash some water on my face, then dabbing it dry with the dark purple towels.  I grab my toothbrush, brushing my teeth quickly.  I take a quick minute to use the toilet before washing my hands and heading back to the bedroom.

Marco had already changed.  He has a dark red short sleeve on and some plaid white pajama bottoms.  I smile, closing the door behind me as I place my day clothing into my duffle bag, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"It's already 11:30?" I whine, slipping under the sheets, slapping my pillow.  Marco chuckles.

"Like your shirt, _Marina_ ," he snickers.  He give him the 'are you fucking serious' look, rolling my eyes.

"Shut up, freckles," I sneer,  "She's a good singer.."  He smiles, before swinging his legs under the covers.

"Why is the shirt _pink_? I mean, of _all_ colors, pink?"

I grab my pillow, whacking it at Marco's head, then placing it down.  

"Only real men wear pink," I inform him, shutting the side lamp off.  He mumbles a "whatever", before shutting his lamp off.  

"Goodnight, Jean," Marco says softly, closing his eyes.  I close my eyes.

"Goodnight... Marco."


	6. IMPORTANT MESSAGE

hey guys! I'm so so sorry that I took such a long break... literally two years or so... heh... I'm going to be publishing the new chapter soon, so stay tuned!! I'm going to try to update as often as I can because I love this story and I know you guys enjoyed it too! So stay tuned for Breaking Bonds VI!


	7. Peaceful Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean experiences sublime emotions throughout this chapter. Everything will be okay, it just takes time...

I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm alright. Everything is okay. It's the sweat that rolls down my neck and the shivers down my spine and the speed of my heart that keeps me apprehensive. It's my second thoughts and 'what if's' that make me worry a bit more. It's the times I wake up hyperventilating, my eyes wide in shock, the reassurance that my dream was not reality. It's when my body tightens up from dehydration that makes me think I'm weak. I am weak. I'm not strong. I never was, I never will be. Whenever I'm upset, I either hold it in, pushing it down into my core, or bursting out in a sob. 

My gaze is on the sparkly white ceiling, which makes it look like the ceiling has glistening stars on it. The ceiling fan is centered in the room, a beige fan with darker beige designs on it, a small red bird cage with a blue and black birdie inside of it, hangs on the chain on the fan. The room's walls are painted dark red, a window just behind my head. The windows are parted, white lace curtains getting blown around due to the wind. I crane my neck to look at Marco. He's asleep, I think... His body is turned away from me, his body raising and lowering slowly. I let out a groan, pushing myself so I'm sitting up. I look out the window. Dark — almost black — clouds fill the sky. 

Thunderstorm.

I get on my knees, the bed creaking as I reach over the window sill to close the windows. I pull the curtains shut. Marco groans beside me. I crane my neck, looking over at him. I must have slept wrong, my upper back is aching. 

"Hey.. Mmf... Good morning," Marco moans, rubbing his eyes. He's so— "How... Long have you been awake?"  
I sit back on my heels, falling back on the bed. "Only a few minutes. A storm's a stirring out there," I say, cracking my back, getting out a loud moan of relief. 

"Really?" Marco murmurs, leaning up against the headboard, hugging his knees. 

Marco groans lightly, thunder rumbles outside. I nod, swinging my legs over the bed. 

"I'm 'a gonna get washed up, kay?" I groan, tiredly. He rubs his eyes again, nodding. I slap my hand on the side table, grabbing my phone in the process. I swing my legs over the bed, standing up, walking over to the door. I close the door silently behind me. As I'm walking to the bathroom, I turn my phone on. Four Unread Conversations. Great.

>Ymir  
You guys were quiet last nite!! That's a first ;)

>Cool Swag Money

>Reiner.

What the hell happened in this chat?

>Hanji!!!!!!!!!!(:

I'd rather not explain

>Levi

I'll explain  
Baldie is annoying. What else is there to say?? -_-

>Reiner.

Oh

>-Bertholdt-

Gooooooooood morning!!!!!!! :D

>EREN

Good morning? More like good afternoon

>-Bertholdt-  
IS IT REALLY OH >~<

>Levi

Eren stfu it's only 9 am, relax bert

>EREN

Damnit Levi every time

>Marco  
hey, just texting you to save your kik!! 

That's romantic.

>Adventures! :D

>Historia

Good morning!

>Ymir

Historia u kno u can just say it in prsn u don't need 2 txt it -.-

>Historia

Fine. Silent treatment for you.

I'd like to see how this day is. I close the bathroom door behind me, turning the nozzle of the faucet on, running the cold water. I cup the water in my hands, splashing the cool water on my face and neck, waking me up completely. The room flashes white, five rumbles of thunder crashing outside. My heartbeat picks up a bit faster, I ruffle my hair. I quickly use the toilet, then I wash my hands, leaving. I slowly walk back into the bedroom. Marco had changed into long, black shorts and a dark burgundy sweatshirt. He is sitting cross-legged on the bed, his head craned downwards, tapping at his phone. I smile lightly, dragging one leg at a time, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

"Sleep well?" Marco asks, looking up from his phone and flashing a grin at me.

"Uh, yeah... You?" I ask, scratching the back of my neck. He nods. "Well, thank you." I lie down on the bed, lacing my fingers together, placing my hands behind my neck, placing my right leg over my left. 

"Did your professor assign homework to you over break?" I ask, focusing my gaze on the white molding that divides the ceiling from the wall. Marco shakes his head. 

"Shit, Professor Zacharias assigned me some calculus crap," I say, groaning. "Speaking of which, I'm going to start. Be right back." Marco nods, moaning softly as he stretches up. He stands up and leaves the room.

-

Around afternoon, once I finish my homework, I decide to socialize with the rest. I'd like to spend some time with Marco. Like, without the two girls. They'll probably end up together anyways. I change into a pair of jeans and a black t shirt. I head downstairs, almost slipping down the wooden steps, and I find Marco who's reading a book. He has glasses, which I didn't know. 

“Hey,” he says, not looking up from his book. I say the same to him. I go into the kitchen and open the fridge. I grab a Dr. Pepper and sit down on the black leather couch, across from Marco.

“What are you reading?” I ask, crossing my legs. I lean back against the couch and I grab the television remote, and turn the TV on. 

“The Great Gatsby,” Marco replies, putting his bookmark in the book and closing it, placing it in his lap. I nod, and I turn the news on. The weather has been really bad lately. The thunder and lightning cleared up from before, but it is still dark and cloudy outside. It's probably going to rain again. 

“It looks really dark outside…” I say, sighing. 

“Yeah, it really is.” 

There is an awkward silence. I start to think of the previous night, not the sticky incident but of my mom and my brother. 

Coincidentally, he says, “What happened yesterday?” 

I play dumb and say, “Well, Ymir and I came to Poland, we ate…” I ramble on a bit. 

“No…” he says. “When you went to the bathroom… when you came out, you were acting different. Did something happen?” 

Oh. That…

“Let's go somewhere else…” I say and stand up. I grab the remote and shut the tv off. He sighs softly as he stands up. I grab my hoodie from the wall hook and throw it on. He already has a sweater on. I grab my keys and my phone. I open the door for him and follow behind. 

“Where are we going?” Marco asks, slightly ahead. He waits for me to catch up. 

“I don't know. I just wanted to get away from the girls. You're the only guy here, at least I have someone to talk to…” I say to him. His cheeks tint pink and he looks down, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, I'm happy I have you to talk to. You seem like a nice guy.”

I smile at that. 

“You seem nice, too.” 

We talk a lot more and we walk about a quarter mile before we find a small, quiet park. I walk over to a small, wooden park bench and sit down. Marco sits next to me. His thigh touches mine. His legs are nice and warm compared to mine. I get cold quickly. 

I sigh. “Where do I start…” I mumble.

“I'll ask you something. Did something happen when you left?” Marco asks. I look at him. He looks extremely concerned and worried. It looks like he really cares and isn't going to bullshit me or go off and tell other people.

I chuckle. I didn't think it was funny, but it's something I do when I'm nervous. I don't want to do this because it makes me seem like I don't care about anything. Like I think it's a joke or it's something of minimal importance to me. 

“My mother called me, and she didn't sound the same… After I ended the call, I started to think about my mother and my younger brother…” I pause. I feel myself getting choked up a bit. No, Jean, keep it in. Don't drop all of your feelings and emotions on him at once. You're better than this. “A-And my dad…” I clench my fist and look in my lap. 

Marco frowns. “If I may ask, are they okay? Did something happen?”

I take a deep breath. 

“My father… he died six years ago…” I choke out, looking up a bit more, then looking to Marco. My eyes are watering but I almost refuse to blink because I don’t want to be seen as weak. 

“...Oh,” he replies. I guess there is no real way to respond to that. “I’m sorry…”

“You don’t need to apologize… He’s in a better place now.”

He died in a car accident, but he was going to die soon… He had stage four lung cancer. I know it was a long time ago but it still affects me today. He was my best friend. I decide not to tell Marco about how he died. If he asks, I’ll mention it but I’d rather not get like this now. I talk to Marco a bit more about my father and some other family events. After about half an hour or so, we head back to the house.

“It was nice to get this stuff off of my chest, y’know?” I say and smile at Marco. He blushes and smiles at me.

“Yeah, me too…” He says. After he speaks there is silence, not awkward silence, but peaceful silence. I hope this is the silence we have when we get back to the house. 

-

It is about nine at night here in Lodz. I’m currently sitting on the bed, my legs under the warm covers. My back is pressed against the fluffy pillows on the headboard. Marco is humming softly next to me as he reads “The Great Gatsby”. Flipping each page, he looks up at me, as if he is checking on me. I haven’t seem Ymir or Historia all day, which I’m okay with. The room is silent. It is not awkward silence, but peaceful silence. The silence I hoped for. Right now… I’m okay. Everything’s okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're reading this, welcome! Or welcome back... lol. I'm going to try my best to continue with this story that I fell in love with!! I hope you enjoyed :)


	8. Maybe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean is not a morning person and Marco may or may not have mixed feelings for Jean.

Marco’s Point of View

I wake up around 9 to the whistling wind. I can tell we have snow. The sun shines dull light into the bedroom. 

“Marcooooooooooo!” Historia screams as she quickly stomps up the stairs. She slams the door open and jumps on top of me. A large impact hits me and the bed. I bounce up on the bed and hit back on the bed. I hear a livid groan from the right side of the bed. Jean. He growls, slowly turning his head to look at Historia, not even looking at me. 

“Hissssstoria,” he growls. She lets out a little “oop” and quickly jumps off of the bed.

“I'm sorry, Jean,” Historia says, incorrectly. “I just wanted to say that we're snowed in… A-And I made breakfast.” She quickly leaves and shuts the door.

I bite the inside of my lip. Why was his anger attractive to me? My thoughts are interrupted by Jean rolling over atop of me, his arm and shoulder leaning against my chest. My face heats up. He's so cute… I raise my left arm and slowly move it towards his hair. As my hand reaches the tips of his hair, he moans softly and he reaches up to rub his eyes. My body flushes with warmth as I quickly move my hand. Once he opens his eyes, his eyes lock with mine. A good three seconds pass before he smiles and chuckles. Wow…

“Good morning…” He says, yawning. I smile at him.

“Good morning, Jean,” I say softly. He smiles at me again. God, I want to--

“Did you sleep okay?” Jean asks, finally sitting up.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Kind of, you?” 

“I slept good,” he says. 

“That's good.”

Jean nods. He brings the covers up to his shoulders and yawns. Yep. That's it. I like Jean. How is it possible to have a crush on someone so quickly? He's attractive, extremely. What if he's a bad person? He can be an asshole. But I can't view him any other way besides a perfect human. Not to anyone else maybe, but he's perfect to me. Perfect for me… 

“Uh… maybe we should go get breakfast,” I suggest. Jean nods, sitting up in the bed. 

He gets up and heads out of the room into the bathroom. I feel the urge to check his phone. I make sure no one of coming before I quickly swipe his phone from the side table. He has a black iPhone 7. Lucky… I wish I had that kind of money. I turn it on, and I feel my heart ache. It feels like someone stabbed me. It's a photo of a girl, a beautiful girl. Not just that, though… he has his arm around her. They look happy together. My body heats up. I'm not jealous, no. No, I'm not. I can't be. I hardly know him. He's probably straight as a board and I'm the opposite. He is attractive, smart, nice, and gets girls. I wish I was attractive. I wish I was smart and nice and I wish other people wanted me. I hear footsteps coming back into the bedroom so I place his phone back and stand up. I go to the closet, trying to find something to wear. Why does it matter what I wear? It isn't like I have anyone to impress... except Jean. 

“Hey,” Jean says. I had taken my shirt off. I look at him. I notice my body in the mirror. I'm pretty fit, I guess you can say. 

“Hey,” I say, finding a red long sleeve shirt and putting it on. Jean closes the door and digs through his luggage and finds a shirt to wear. When he takes his shirt off, I can't help but look at his body. It's really something else. He is pretty ripped as well. I feel myself blush and I look back in the closet. I grab a pair of grey sweatpants so I take my pajama pants off and slip those on. I don't really care today. I feel betrayed, though we've hardly talked. 

“Marco,” Jean says. I snap out of my daydream and look at him. He changed. He's wearing black joggers and the same jacket from yesterday. 

“What is it?”

“Are you okay? You kind of zoned out…” he says. Wow, this guy is actually concerned? Damn, that's a first. I've only known him for a day. I'll probably get over this crush I have… 

“Oh, yeah. I'm fine,” I say. I find a clean pair of grey socks and put them on. I put my phone in my pocket and head downstairs. Jean follows behind me. He's really trailing… 

“Come on, Jean,” I say, waving him on. “The girls are--” I freeze in my steps. My red string tugs. My heartbeat picks up and my eyes widen. I feel my face burn. Jean doesn't move either. 

“J-Jean…” I stammer. “Did… Did you feel that too?”

I look back at him. He's pretty much in the same position I'm in. His face is red, he's standing still and his eyes are averted down. He looks up as if he broke out of a trance. 

“What are you talking about?” He scowls. He takes a few steps down the stairs, he doesn’t even look at me as he descends down the stairs. He takes his phone out of his pocket and turns it on. I catch a glance at the lock screen again; the photo of him with the girl appears and I feel my body heat up. I’m jealous. I want his arms around me. 

“Come on, you guys!” Ymir yells. “Stop fucking and get down here! The food is getting cold!”

I jump from her loud scream and I quickly walk down the stairs and into the kitchen. Thanks Jean for waiting for me. It isn’t like I waited for you or anything. Historia is in a checkered apron with sweatpants and slippers. Ymir actually has on jeans and a t-shirt. There is a huge stack of toast and a platter of eggs. 

“Take a seat!” Historia exclaims, smiling wide. 

“Geez, Krista,” I say. Krista is her nickname. Well, her middle name… I call her that sometimes. “Why are you so cheery today?” I can see the steam coming out of Ymir’s ears.

Historia squeals and turns around with two cups of orange juice. 

“There's a christmas ball on Sunday and we’re going!” She continues to squeal some more and places the cups down, now half empty since she was jumping around. Sunday is in two days. 

“A christmas ball?” Jean asks. I turn my head to look at him. Damn. He has his ankle across his leg and he is leaning back in the chair, arms folded. I envy how casual he actually is.

Historia beams, “Yes, a christmas ball! The annual christmas ball!!” 

“Eh…” I murmur. “I don’t have a suit to wear…” 

“Then you and Jean go out and buy something! Ymir and I need to buy dresses!” Ymir hisses at Historia’s statement. 

“Never in a million years would I wear that,” She says, sighing and standing up. “I’ll go with you, Historia, but I’m not buying a dress.”

“Who will they escort?” Historia asks.

“I guess I can escort you,” I suggest. “And Jean can escort Ymir.” Historia pouts at the idea. 

“Fine…” I can tell that she isn’t digging my idea. “Come on, Ymir, chodźmy!” 

-

Around 4, the snow is finally cleaned by the snow trucks. The snow had melted outside. The girls already went out, but they haven't come back yet. It shouldn't take that long to buy a dress…. I'm currently sitting on the warm, beige couch. I feel engulfed by it, almost. I'm reading The Great Gatsby again, a wonderful book so far. I feel that some of the quotes from the book relate to me. I turn the page and read, 

"Reserving judgments is a matter of infinite hope."

Maybe I shouldn't judge Jean. I've been thinking negatively about him ever since this morning. I shouldn't judge Jean, however. He's mainly been nice to me this trip so far. I should just try to blend in with the others. I'm awkward. I'm lame and I'm boring. Why is Historia or Jean or Ymir friends with me? 

I'm broken out of my insecure thoughts when Jean rustles his keys and his wallet in his hands. “Marco, let's go,” Jean says, putting on an olive green coat. It has fur all around the hood. 

“Where are we going?” I ask, I place my bookmark into my book and close it. I gently place it on the couch and push myself off the couch so I stand up.

“Shopping for suits, remember?”

Oh right. I nod as I pace towards the door and slip my shoes on. I grab my jacket off the hook and I put it on, zipping it up. 

We head outside. It's surprising how there's almost no snow outside… I take my keys out of my pocket. I walk over to my beautiful Mercedes Benz and press the button to open the car. This is the one of few luxury items I have. Jean can't drive here; he doesn't have a license here. I get in the driver's side and slam the door shut. Jean does the same. 

“This is your car?” he asks, almost surprised. 

I nod. “Yeah… my parents really treated me.” 

The drive to the mall is awkwardly silent. My mind wanders to the incident before. “What are you talking about?” How couldn't he have felt anything? I could've sworn I felt our strings… Maybe he's my soulmate. 

Once we arrive at the mall, we find a tuxedo store. I have to make sure I point that out to the German. We enter the store. There are mannequins wearing different varieties of suits. I'm amazed. 

(Please keep in mind that when there are italics, they are speaking in Polish.)

“Can I help you?” the woman asks. She's a petite, light skinned girl with freckles and black pigtails. 

“Oh, yes, actually,” I say. “We're looking for tuxedos for the Christmas ball.”

The woman smiles. “Well, we have hundreds of different tuxedos for you two to choose from.” 

“I want just a simple, black tuxedo,” Jean says. The woman tilts her head in confusion. 

“Ehh,” I murmur, trying to translate. “He said he wants to buy a simple, black tuxedo. I want to buy a dark grey one.” 

The woman nods and leads us to a section. 

“Let me take your measurements.” I go first. She measured my arm length, shoulder width, and measured my leg length, then she does Jean. A few minutes later she manages to find ones in our sizes perfectly. It's odd because it normally takes days. 

“I luckily found some in your size. Try these on,” the woman says, handing Jean and I the tuxedos we chose in a preserved package. 

“Thank you,” I say to the lady. “Come on, Jean.” 

We walk to the section of the store that says “Fitting Rooms” and I decide to go first. I step into the small cubicle and close the door. I place the tuxedo on the hook and strip of my garments. I put on the tuxedo and put on my tie perfectly. My mother taught me when I was young. As I got older, I had to wear uniforms for school, so I learned how to knot my tie the right way. I open the door of the cubicle and Jean looks up from his phone. His eyes widen a little. I feel my face flush. 

“How do I look?” I ask, scratching the back of my neck.

He breaks out of a trance, again, and stares at me. 

“It fits well, it looks good too.” 

“Thank you.”

I close the door and change back into my normal clothes. Jean takes his suit and goes into the cubicle once I'm done. I hear a lot of rustling and groaning before he opens the door. He looks messy in his suit. I chuckle and fix the collar of his suit. I also carefully tie his tie properly. When I look up, his cheeks are bright red and his mouth is slightly open. I blush too but smile. 

“There!” I say. “You look good.” Jean grins.

“Thanks, I guess. I don't think I look that good…”

“You look good! Trust me,” I say, putting my hands into my pockets. He gives me a reassuring smile before going back into the cubicle and changing back into his original clothes. He comes out a minute or two later in his normal clothes. We take the suits and check out; I insist on paying. 

We're acting like a couple, I think to myself. I like this. 

We wander around the mall for a while before stopping at the food court. Every time I greet someone in my language, Jean stares at me as if it's something magical. I'm not complaining…

-

We head home after lunch and there is some awkward tension on the ride home. We’re greeted by Historia who is wearing a beautiful black and red ball gown with sparkles. It has lace on the bottom of the dress. 

“It looks amazing,” I say. Jean agrees.

“Aw, thank you!!” She grins and spins around. She's such a child. We bring our suits upstairs and hang them up. 

I need to look my best Sunday. I want to impress Jean. I wish I knew more about him, I want to know more about him. I chill out in our room on my phone for a bit before Jean touches my shoulder. I look up and lock eyes with him. His eyes are brown, but they're beautiful. 

“Umm… what happened this morning?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter took so long! I'm trying to make this story the best that I can. If you like this story, please share it! I'd love to get more recognition. Thank you lovely people and have an awesome day :)


	9. Love is in the Air (also sexual tension)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexual tension and awkward moments fulfill this chapter that took me four months to write.

Jean’s POV

  
“Umm… what happened this morning?” I ask. Marco’s reaction is strange. His face turns bright red and he looks down in his lap. He swallows and looks up at me. I sit on the bed beside him.

“Umm… well…” He stammers, twiddling his thumbs. “You, uhh…”

I frown. I guess I don’t remember what happened this morning.

“You yelled at Historia this morning… I guess you were really groggy,” He finishes his sentence. That isn’t the answer I expected. That isn’t the answer I wanted. Something else happened this morning, but I didn’t want to bother him.

“Oh… I guess I should apologize to her then,” I suggest. Marco nods.

Marco completely changes the topic.

“So you’re going to dance with Ymir tomorrow?”

I sigh softly. I really don’t want to. I want to dance with you, Marco.

“I suppose so…” We’re soulmates, after all…

“I mean, I guess that leaves me with Historia,” He says. He doesn’t seem to want to dance with her either.

“We can always switch it up,” I say. His eyes light up. “Mhm!” Marco nods. “Definitely!”

-

After dinner, I head up to my bedroom and sit at the desk. I just started some of my German homework when Marco comes into the room.

“Hey Jean, do you have a clean shirt I can borrow?” He asks.

  
“Yeah, sure,” I say. I stand up and go to my closet. I grab him an olive green t-shirt and turn around. Shit! I didn't know he was half naked. I make an awkward, ugly face before handing it to him. He grabs it from me and puts it on in a sensual way that was almost tempting. I'm gonna admit; I think he's very cute. I hardly thought about being bisexual or gay even, but I am now, and more than I ever did. I try to shake off my confusing thoughts and focus on my writing.

“Jean,” he says. It breaks me out of my trance. “What are you saying?”

I turn around in my chair and look at a fully-clothed Marco. “I think you were speaking German… and I was wondering what you were saying.”

“Oh…” I murmur. I guess I didn't notice. “Uh… sorry about that. I was just daydreaming.” He nods and sits on the bed, opening up his book.

“Why do you read?” I whine, and I instantly regret asking. “No one reads these days.”

“Umm…” Marco stammers. “Excuse me?”

“Books are so fucking boring,” I say, standing up and look at him. “It's probably a stupid book anyways.”

Marco looked scared now. I all of a sudden feel full of rage.

“It's about the 1920’s,” Marco says. “I don't see why you're getting upset…”

“You know what,” I say. I scratch the back of my head. “Just get out, Marco.”

“This is our room. You can't order me around!” he replies. “Just calm down…”

“Marco… please, I need space.”

“I don't know what I did…” Marco says, closing his book.”

“Get out, piece of shit!” I sneer at him. Marco’s eyes widen and quickly runs out. He slams the door behind him.

I don't know why I yelled. I am frustrated with my homework and I'm just overwhelmed… I'm sure Ymir and Christa are widely aware, since my voice is very loud. Fuck. Somehow, I'm thinking of a few nights ago at the campfire. How did I get so aroused? Why was I aroused? Why did I feel my string tug when Marco motioned me to head downstairs? Could he really be my soulmate? I was so stupid to yell!! Ugh! It was so stupid to make an argument out of nothing! I need to apologize, but I also insulted him. He isn't a piece of shit, I am.

I look at the clock and notice 20 minutes passed by. I can't imagine how Marco feels right now… I'm so stupid!! I want to beat myself up.

I'm broken out of my thoughts when I hear a knock on the door.

“Hey, Jean…” a quavering voice says. “Can I come in?” It's Marco. Why is he asking to come in? I stand up and forcefully open the door. The first thing I notice are his eyes, the beautiful hazel eyes he has are now bright red from crying. He isn't weak for crying, no one is weak from crying.

“Marco…” I say. I motion him to come in and he does. I shut the door and quietly lock it.

“Marco, I am so sorry… I was frustrated from my work and I'm just overwhelmed… I shouldn't have yelled at you and I'm such a douchebag for doing so and—”

Marco touches my shoulder with his hand. His touch is so gentle and makes me weak in the knees. He moves closer to me and I feel my face burn up. I'm frozen in place. His piercing hazel eyes dominate me.

“It’s okay, Jean,” he says. When Marco said my name, I felt myself become extremely aroused. I feel compelled by him, like he can control me in any way possible when he says my name. I want him so bad.

Marco smiles at me. It’s fake. I've seen him smile before, and that's a fake smile. I want to make him smile for real.

I can't hold back anymore. I grab his face and I pull him in. I close my eyes and kiss him passionately. I press my arms against the small of his back and pull his hips to mine. He was stiff at first, but eventually eases into the kiss. His lips are so soft and plump and I can't get enough. He places his hand against my head and the other around my waist. This feels better than any girl I've ever kissed. It feels as if Marco’s lips were meant to be on mine. I don't want to let him go, but I do. As we part lips, I look at his hand, and his red string is glowing. Mine is, too. All of a sudden, it bursts into rose petals. This is the moment I've been waiting for. It's official, he's the one. Marco’s face is bright red, but he looks adorable.

Marco grins and looks at me. “I'm so happy you did that,” he says.

 


	10. Mikasa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean struggles between two people, the current and the past. He needs to make a decision before he cracks under stress. Also there's a bit of JeanxMikasa so beware...

* * *

Jean’s POV

I can't believe I just kissed him. It was sweet and perfect, and now I'm certain he is my soulmate. To my surprise, Marco kisses me again, pulling me closer to him. It's like he turned into a new person.

“We won't tell the girls,” Marco whispers as his body is pressed against mine. He looks at me and traces my jaw with his index finger. His touch makes me want him even more. My hand presses against his back and he falls on top of me on the bed. He looks over me, and wow. He is beautiful…

“Umm… can I kiss you again, Marco?” I ask, looking down, gazing at his neck. It has freckles too, which is adorable and enticing.

Marco nods and smiles softly. “Mhm…” I cup his cheek and lock eyes with him. My brown eyes are nothing compared to his hazel eyes. His freckles are scattered perfectly across his cheeks and forehead. His lips are perfectly plump and pink, so kissable. I close my eyes and kiss him lovingly. He kisses back, holding my face in his hands, which was a feeling I can get used to for sure. I want more than this, but I resist and pull away.

Marco smiles at me and looks into my eyes. I smile, too. I run my fingers through his hair, which is extremely smooth.

“I'm sorry…” I say to him and bite my bottom lip. He stands up straight. “It's all right.”

“We don't say anything to the girls… okay?”

“Mhm.”

“Will our strings be visible?” I ask.

“Not unless we want it to,” Marco says. “I know a lot about the strings.”

“So, Marco… when I pulled my string twice in the morning, did you know why?”

Marco shook his head no, and I tell him that it was because I was saying ‘good morning’ every day. He blushes and smiles.

“Jean,” Marco says. “I'm glad you're my soulmate.”

* * *

 

Saturday rolls around and Marco and I haven't talked since that incident. Every time I see him, my face turns red and I turn my head. He's constantly reading that book of his. At least Marco is smart and enjoys old school things, it makes him unique. Currently I'm sitting downstairs in the kitchen with Ymir. She's talking about nonsense when Historia comes downstairs in sweatpants and a tank top. She greets everyone and sits down next to Marco on the couch. She turns the tv on and Ymir groans.

“Let’s go out,” she suggests. “We've been sitting here like mopes. It's almost Christmas, let’s act like it.”

Historia instantly agrees and so do I, but Marco is hesitant.

“Where are we going?” Marco asks. “I know a good place that sells kielbasa and pierogies, we could go there.”

Everyone agrees. I go upstairs to change into something more appropriate for going out, joggers and a grey long sleeve. Even when we are in the same room, we don't talk. It's weird. I can't help but look at his body, though. It has freckles, too. God, I really want to—

“Jean?” Marco says, looking at me. Is he going to talk about it? Is he going to kiss me again?

“What is it?” I say.

“Is… my watch over there? It may be on the desk…” Marco says. Oh.

“Umm…” I search on the desk. I finally find it underneath my homework. “Yeah. Here it is.” I pick it up and place it in his hand. His hands are warm but not clammy. They feel perfect. I can't help but blush.

“Thank you,” he says and puts it on. He has on blue jeans and a white t shirt. He grabs his jacket and drapes it over his shoulders. I nod and grab my big winter coat and put it on. Things are so awkward now, which sucks. Hopefully things work out for us. I head downstairs first and he comes down as I put my shoes on. Marco heads out first out of us and I assume he's gonna start up his car. Historia heads out second, meanwhile Ymir is still upstairs, taking a long ass time to get ready.

“ _Cmon Ymir! The others are waiting!!_ ” I shout upstairs.

“ _Shut up, horse! I'll be down in a second!_ ” She retorts back. I roll my eyes and plop down on the couch. I take out my phone and notice my lock screen, the photo of Mikasa and I. I wonder what she's doing this break. Why am I wondering? Do I still have feelings for her? I can't have feelings for her, though she's extremely pretty. Even now, I try not to remember what happened last summer.

Ymir comes down in black sweatpants, tan boots, and a thin grey jacket.

“ _You look like a bum_ ,” I snicker and stand up. She groans and puts her hood up. She opens the door and leaves. I follow quickly after her and shut the door. Historia said that she locked the door before she left.

We head to the luxurious car of Marco’s. Both of us get in the back.

Marco asks something in Polish to Historia and she then answers “yes”, or at least I assumed she did. I don't understand Polish. I only know the three words Historia said before, and even now I can't recall them. He nods and starts to pull out and drive. The drive to the restaurant is pretty quiet, besides Historia and Ymir talking to each other. Marco and I were silent and didn't say anything to each other.

We get to the restaurant, an indecipherable name, and find a place to sit. It's a casual restaurant which I prefer over fancy places. I was blasting music in my earbuds and isolating myself. I sat next to Marco, and Historia and Ymir sat next to each other across from us. I cross my ankles and check the menu.

Historia bursts out, “Let's order the kielbasa and pierogi special!!”

“Okay, I love both anyways,” Marco says. I haven't heard his voice, so it sounds soothing.

“That's fine,” I say, tossing the menu onto the table. I cross my arms and close my eyes. I feel really tired, I didn't even do that much today. I worked out a bit this morning but that was pretty much it, besides school work. I don't even notice or hear the waitress take our order. My phone buzzes and I check it. Connie texted me.

Connie:  
hey man! how's poland? meet any hot girls? lol!

I chuckle and reply back.

Jean:  
Hey Connie, it's great here! Unfortunately I haven't met any cute girls but when I do I'll give them your # :)

I shut my phone off and close my eyes again. It seems like seconds later I suddenly wake up from my catnap and the food has just arrived. For some reason Historia and Ymir switched places. They didn't seem to notice I wasn't talking, which kind of makes me feel unsettled. I grab some kielbasa and a few pierogies and start eating.

“Mmm! This is great!!” I exclaim. It is! It's a mix of flavors I've never tasted before. Ymir agrees, taking three more pierogies for her plate.

I want to hold his hand. I notice that Marco is left handed. I'm right handed, so it'd be easy to hold hands with him without it being awkward. I place my hand on the seat as I cut up my pierogi with my fork. I glance over at him and his cheeks are a light pink. I quickly look away.

“Find any chicks to pick up, Jeanbo?” Ymir asks, sitting back on the booth seat and folding her arms. My hand jerks back in my lap and I imitate her position.

“Actually, I haven't,” I say, stuffing my face with a kielbasa and pierogi mix. So tasty. “And stop calling me that…”

“Aww, you poor soul,” she says, finishing the pierogi she put on her plate just recently.

I furrow my eyebrows and cut up some kielbasa.

“I'm fine,” I state. “I don't need a girlfriend, nor do I want one, to be honest.”

“I'm gonna head to the toilet really quick,” Marco says after a few seconds pass. Historia nods as an ok and he grabs his things and leaves.

“Jean, what's up with you and him?” Historia asks. “Why did you yell at him?”

I sigh. “It's none of your business, Historia,” I snap. I'm right, what is it to her? She doesn't have to worry.

“Yes it is!” Historia bursts out. “He's my friend!”

I roll my eyes and cross my arms. “It was stupid,” I say.

“He came down crying on Thursday because he said you yelled at him! What was the reason? Did you hurt him? Did you-”

“Shut the fuck up,” I sneer. I continue to eat. She doesn't talk much but when she does, she gets annoying. Marco comes back and scratches his chin. I almost don't notice because I was chatting with Ymir about this trip and the minor jet lag. She tells me that on Christmas she wants to explore Poland and then asks Historia for some nice places.

Marco and I finally start a domestic conversation about school. He's studying to be a journalist, which I thought was nice. I told him I'm studying to become a pediatrician. I'm two years into my studies and have about two or three to go for my PhD. It's his first year studying in college but he and I are the same age, 20. He tells me he took a year off because he had to help his mom in the hospital, since she was sick. I wish I could've been there to help. I know so much about health and medical topics and I always have. I regret not being able to help, though I did not know him then. His eyes glow when he talks about writing. I guess that explains why he reads so often. He speaks very good English, and he tells me he speaks Spanish as well. I only speak fluent German and English. I also know a decent amount of French since my parents used to talk with it. I know that I have an accent however, I am confident with my speaking. I think I want to ask Marco to teach me Polish, or at least some phrases.

“Let's play a game,” Ymir suggests.

“Like what?” Marco asks, resting his head in his palm.

“Uhh never have I ever?” She replies and shrugs. I reply with an “I guess” though I didn't want to play.

“Never have I ever…” Ymir ponders. She thinks for a few seconds and replies with “gotten a tattoo.”

No one lowers a finger except for Historia who apparently had a tattoo behind her ear. She shows it to us. It's 3 small stars and a moon, which represents her family. Historia goes next, and she says “Never have I ever dyed my hair.” After she says so, Marco groans and lowers a finger. Historia giggles and recalls a time he dyed his hair blonde at Historia’s house. I can't even imagine how that went, I really want to see photos.

“Never have I ever… kissed a girl,” Marco says. Everyone except Marco lowers a finger. He looks at me lower it and I almost feel guilty. I've kissed many girls before but I've never kissed a boy before, besides Thursday. I can tell by his expression he wasn't expecting it, though I'm confused why. His lips are pursed and his eyes are glassy. He catches me looking at him and he forces a smile which I know is fake. Marco turns to face Ymir and now it's my turn.

“Never have I ever… never have I ever fucked someone in a public bathroom,” I say, snickering. Ymir’s face turns beet red and lowers a finger. Historia and Marco look _shocked as fuck_ and I hysterically laugh.

“Jean, you said you'd never- what the- you said you'd never talk about it!!” Ymir calls out. Everyone is still laughing.

“Is he right?” Historia says, she doesn't even look hurt. Her face is red from laughing. Ymir clicks her tongue and nods ever so slightly.

-

After about fifteen more rounds of embarrassment and calling our friends out, we decided to head back home. On Monday I want to go shopping for Christmas gifts, which is on Thursday. Marco drives us all back to Historia’s place and I head up to our room. I forgot what he tasted like. I want to know again. I yearn for him.

Once I'm in my room I take my coat off and hang it up. Marco had went to the bathroom so I decided to put something more comfortable on, aka sweatpants and t-shirt. I change my socks and sit on the couch.

I'm still confused with my feelings. I can't kiss or tempt Marco if I'm still confused. He is on my mind more than Mikasa but I’m torn because of what happened last summer.

* * *

 

_It was a scorching hot July day and I decided to be bold and I went to Connie’s summer bash, a tradition and yearly party that Connie throws exactly two weeks after school is let out. He invites all of his friends and makes our friends invite our friends and so on. It is a crazy event. One of the main ‘events’ is the pool party. Marlow thought it was a good idea to bring vodka and bourbon to the party, and in my mind at the time, it was a good idea._

_Mikasa had went to Connie’s party and I decided right then and there that I was going to kiss her. I wanted to win her over. I didn't give two shits about the red strings, I wanted her and I was certain that she was my soulmate. So that's what I did. It was not on me that she got drunk. When she drinks, she drinks. She was dancing like a stripper in the pool in her over-exposing bikini. It was a bit annoying because I would have preferred her to cover her precious body up. I went into the bathroom to change out of my sticky wet bathing suit when I heard a knock at the door._

_“Just a minute,” I said roughly as I pulled a pair of dry shorts over me. I didn't have a shirt on but the person opened the door. My black t-shirt is scrambled in my arms when Mikasa roughly opens the door, leaning against the door frame in a seductive way. Her chest looked larger than before._

_“Mikasa,” I blurted out. “W-What are you—”_

_“Oh, Jean… did I ever tell you…” she slurred. “Did I… did I ever tell you that I want you, Jean?”_

_She bit her lip and gave a seducing smile. She walked closer to me, touching my shoulder and tracing her fingers down my arm, lacing her fingers in mine._

_“Mikasa, you're drunk,” I said strongly. “You don't want me.” Although it was true, it hurt. I knew she didn't want me, even if she was in her drunken state, I knew she wouldn't want me._

_“I dooooo want you, Jean,” she slurred and pressed her beautiful body against mine, making me instantly aroused. “I want you sooo bad.”_

_“No, you don't,” I repeated. “You don't love me.”_

_“Oh… but I do,” Mikasa said and giggled softly. “I love you, Jean.” My eyes widened at that, and I still think about it to this day. She said she loved me. It's something I wanted to hear for the longest time. I wanted her so bad in that moment, but I knew I needed to resist her. Her cheeks were bright pink and she looked beautiful, but I couldn't give in to her._

_“Mikasa,” I say. “You need to get off of me. You don't want this or me and I know that.”_

_She completely ignored what I said and slurs, “Just because I'm dr…..drunk does-doesn't mean I can't make my own d-decisions.” She trailed her fingers over my toned chest. She looked infatuated with my body. I was so close to giving into her. I wanted her._

_“Mikasa, please,” I insisted._

_“I know you want me, Jean…” she winked at me and she lowered her hand down to my shorts. She leaned closer to my face and kissed me roughly. I forgot that she was drunk for a second and I ended up kissing her back roughly as well, pressing my hand against the small of her back. I knew I shouldn't have done that. I knew, but I did it anyways. I was so stupid. At the time she figured that was her go-ahead to continue. Yes, I wanted to continue. I wanted to so bad. I couldn't. I knew what was right for her, but I did the opposite._

_“M-Mikasa,” I stuttered. The beautiful girl was now in my arms, her chest against mine. “Please get off.” I didn't want her to get off, but I knew that it was the right thing to do. “Please.” I said it stronger this time._

_She looked upset but still insisted on seducing me._

_“One more kiss, Jean… just one more a-and I'll go,” Mikasa suggested. Her voice was soft and gentle but very seductive. She seemed content._

_I shouldn't have said yes, but I did. I kissed her this time. I grabbed her face and kissed her passionately. I wanted her and at the time she wanted me but she would not remember this when she was sober. Mikasa kissed me back. I had to embrace this moment because it would never happen again. I let her go and looked into her eyes. Those bold black eyes had me captivated and under her control. Her pale skin was glistening and she looked beautiful._

_“You don't love me, Mikasa,” I said to her. She squealed and jumped on me, wrapping her arms and legs around me._

_“Yes I do! I do love you, Jean!” She exclaimed, her breasts in my face. My face got hot and I sat her down on the bathroom counter._

_“Mikasa…” I sighed, looking at her. This girl needed to stop confusing me. Does she or does she not love me? She was acting so vulnerable, and as far as I knew, she never tried to pursue anyone when drunk._

_“You need to get out of here,” I said sternly. “Please, get off of me and get out.” I didn't want that, but it was the right thing. Before she could say anything, Eren slammed the door open. Welp, this was a bad position to be in. Eren’s eyes were wide and his hands formed into fists._

_“What the fuck?” Eren exclaimed. “Mikasa, Jean! What are you doing?”_

_Before I could reply, he said to me, “You're a monster, Jean! How dare you try to pursue her under the influence? What kind of motives do you have?”_

_“Eren, just hold on—”_

_“Shut up! Mikasa, come here,” Eren motioned Mikasa to come to him and she hopped off the counter and went into his arm._

_“If you try anything again, you're a dead man.”_

_“Erennnnn—” Mikasa whined. She started to cry all of a sudden. Even cupped her cheeks and hugged her._

_“I know…” he said, his nose in her hair. “I know…” This time he gave me the most threatening look I've ever received. They both turned around and walk out of the bathroom. I had put my shirt on after he left. What just happened? It was absolutely unbelievable._

* * *

 

Over time I've come to realize why she was crying. She was crying because Eren was wrong. Although this is selfish, but I truly believe she had feelings for me at one point. I don't know if it was then, but only her and I know the truth. She never had the guts to tell him what really happened, and I'm positive she remembers. I don't know if her feelings were real then, I don't know why she cried, I don't know why she despises me now, I don't know why I am still drawn to her.

Without thinking, I grab my sketchbook and a pencil. I need to draw. Drawing is my escape from thoughts, feelings, and life overall. As my pencil touches the paper, I go to work. I don't know what to draw at all. I've drawn Mikasa countless times, so I don't know if I'll draw her again. I need to forget about her. I need to lose my feelings for her.

* * *

 

It feels like a daze when I realize what I've been drawing is smudged. It was my face that smudged it. I fell asleep, apparently. I'm so confused with my feelings. I can't be tempting Marco when I don't even know my own feelings.

Marco comes into the room and shakes me. I groan and look at him. He must've been awake for a while now.

“Jean,” Marco whispers. “It's 10 am, you should get up. Today is the ball.”

I place my drawing on the side table and sit up on my knees. I rub my eyes with the heel of my palms and grab my phone.

“Marco,” I say, strongly. “Can… we talk?”

Marco looked a bit surprised but nods. He goes around to the other side of the bed and sits down cross legged. I sit the same way, facing him.

“What's up?” Marco says. He sounds worried but he sounds strong. His voice is soft and gentle.

“I…” I look down at my feet. “I don't know…” I scratch the back of my head and look up at him. “I'm confused… I'm confused and I don't want to hurt you.”

Marco cocks his head and furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”

“Marco… my feelings are screwed up,” I admit. “I don't know who I…” My voice gets stuck in my throat. “I don't know who I l-l…” I pause for a second before saying it again.

“I don't know who I love,” I blurt out. Marco’s eyes widen a bit. His cheeks turn pink and he looks into his lap.

“Oh,” he says softly. “Well, hopefully you can decide somehow. I wish I could help…”

Marco, seriously? Are you that naïve? I love you, Marco! I love you. Unless he is pessimistic. Maybe he doesn't believe I could love him, which is a lie. I've only been with him for two weeks but my feelings are pretty strong. I feel drawn to him.

“The thing is… I love one more than the other, but I have memories with the other person and I just want to forget her because she doesn't even care about me—”

“Jean,” Marco says. “Everything will turn out okay, okay Jean? You don't need to worry at all… everything is going to play out as it normally would. People are going to act the same way, people are going to say the same things… and eventually you will realize who you love and who you don't love. You will know when you love who you're deciding between. I know it.”

His words impact me. He's right. I will eventually realize who I care about completely and absolutely adore. I just need to go through life as I normally would and I will know who I love.

I feel nervous, so nervous that I start to laugh. A lot. Marco’s face turns red from embarrassment.

“Is what I said funny…?” He says, hurt. I try to calm myself down.

“No, it wasn't funny… I just- I get like this when I'm.. really nervous, uh,” I stammer. “I'm sorry. I just sound like an idiot… we are soulmates and — to be honest, I'm really, really glad it's you…”

Marco’s expression turns from hurt to overjoyous. He looks as if he's about to cry. I reach for his hand but he takes mine in his hand and squeezes it.

“I'm really, really glad too… and I'm glad you feel the same way.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and thanks for reading!! I will try to update as soon as possible since I'm back on the writing grind! The italicized dialogue is in German in this chapter, I figured it's easier to do this way. Let me know what you think of this chapter and if you have any questions, let me know!!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy!! :D
> 
> If you have any ideas or such, comment! I love getting feedback!


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